


Center Mass

by kateyes224



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR, Post-Episode: s01e01 Pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes224/pseuds/kateyes224
Summary: In the wake of their first case together, Mulder and Scully make a concerted effort to get to know one another...and end up uncovering more than they bargained for in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post-Pilot/pre-Deep Throat fic that attempts to explain how and why Mulder and Scully are so immediately comfortable around one another, physically and emotionally. Please note: I have taken some artistic liberties with the FBI’s firing range qualification scoring and procedure. Massive, massive thanks to my beta, @piecesofscully, and to my backup beta, @2momsmakearight, without whom I would ever have found the strength to finish this fic.

Portland International Airport

March 12, 1992

Rain fell in steady sheets, beating against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the terminal as Scully melted back into her seat and watched planes taxi back and forth across the tarmac in a lumbering waltz.  The sky outside darkened, growing more ominous.  It was only 10 a.m., but it could just as easily have been 10 p.m.  Scully groaned inwardly as she mentally tallied how many hours of sleep she’d gotten during the past week.  When she realized she would only need to count with ten fingers, she closed her eyes and slumped further down into her seat, so beyond exhausted that she would need an intravenous drip of Starbucks’ darkest Columbian roast to keep her eyes from drifting permanently shut before they boarded their flight back to Washington, D.C.  

Scully snuck a glance at her new partner out of the corner of her eye.  Mulder was folded in on himself in the cramped, plastic seat with one elbow perched on a drawn-up knee as he gazed out the windows, the lean contours of his long body at once disquietingly sharp and beautiful.  He was resting one sunflower seed after another against his full bottom lip before tonguing it gently into his mouth, working the seeds out with a muted crack between his molars, and spitting the hulls discreetly into his empty coffee cup.  The entire process struck her as vaguely and casually erotic somehow.  Scully carefully studied his profile, letting her eyes wander over his tall, angular frame.  Mulder must have felt her eyes on him, though, because he canted his face towards hers, flashing her a tired half-smile.

“Not exactly what you were expecting for your first field assignment, was it?” he asked.

She shrugged a shoulder, trying her level best to appear nonchalant.  “I wasn’t sure what to expect, to be honest.  But I can’t say I’m not intrigued.  Is this the way these cases usually resolve?” she asked, angling her body towards his.  “ _Without_ resolution?  With more questions than when you started?”

He chuckled and dropped the leg that had been drawn up, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate.”  

Scully shook her head, perplexed.  “No offense, Agent Mulder, but I honestly can’t see how the Bureau could justify continuing to allot resources to the X-Files division if your solve rate is…”  She swallowed hard, allowing her voice to trail away helplessly as he turned to face her fully, unsure of how to complete her thought without offending him.  

“Non-existent?” Mulder finished for her, still smiling with his disarmingly self-effacing good humor.  “I don’t investigate these cases hoping to add another notch in my headboard, Agent Scully.  I don’t care about my division’s bureaucratic viability.  If I can close a file and understand a little bit more about myself or the universe, then I think the investigation was worthwhile.  We should see some sort of resolution with this case, though. The local DA’s office will take it from here.  Billy Miles will be facing kidnapping charges at the very minimum, although competency is going to be an issue at trial, obviously.  And depending on how any subsequent interviews pan out, his father may be charged as an accomplice.”  He cracked another sunflower seed, pondering.  “And your question didn’t offend me.  No offense to you, but I didn’t really expect you to be as…” Now he trailed off.  “I guess I was expecting a little bit more, I dunno, rigidity in your adherence to scientific principles.”

Scully lifted an eyebrow, meeting his eyes.  “I do _try_ to keep an open mind, Mulder,” she said.  “Especially when I obviously have a lot to learn.”  She stifled a sudden yawn into the back of her hand and gazed gloomily into her near-empty coffee cup.  

Mulder’s brow furrowed.  “You must be exhausted,” he murmured, genuinely sympathetic.  “I’m sorry, Scully.  I’m not used to anyone trying to keep up with me.  The hours I keep are pretty, uh…”

“Irregular?” she guessed.

He smiled.  “I was going to say ‘odd,’ but irregular works, too.”

“Yeah, I suspected as much when you asked me to go for a run at 4 a.m.”  Scully cleared her throat and glanced at him sidelong, trying to keep her tone neutral. “So…uhm…have you _always_ had trouble sleeping?”

Mulder chuffed and shook his head, his eyes dancing with sudden comprehension.  “Oh, no you don’t.  Listen, Dr. Scully, I’ve been dealing with insomnia for the last fifteen years.  I can get by on very little sleep, and I’ve tried every sleep aid under the sun.  I saw a sleep therapist for a few months in college before I decided it was a complete crock of shit.  If I can catch a few hours here and there, I consider it a good night.  I appreciate your concern, and as much as I love the idea of playing doctor with you, you don’t need to diagnose me or prescribe me anything.”  

Scully’s mouth dropped open.  She turned, ready to him to tell him he was way out of line when she saw him playfully duck his head, purposefully avoiding her gaze to once again focus on the planes coming and going outside.  He slipped another seed into his mouth, trying to hide a smile.  “Anyway,” he continued, “I hate taking drugs for it.  They make me feel…cloudy.  I can’t be on top of my game when my head feels like it’s floating away from my body.”

Scully studied him carefully now, jarred that she was about to allow such flagrantly inappropriate innuendo slip past her without saying anything.   _He’s just trying to throw me off_ , she mused.  Shaking her head slightly, Scully decided her best course of action was to ignore it.  She cleared her throat.  “There are homeopathic remedies, changes in habits and patterns you can make that might make a difference.  Avoiding any screen time after a certain hour, for instance.  My sister swears by essential oils.  She puts drops of lavender, mandarin and chamomile in her bath every night and tells me it’s done wonders for her sleep cycle.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shot up, and he couldn’t keep a shocked grin from nearly splitting his face.  “Your sister is into holistic medicine?  What a pair you two must make.”

Scully smiled indulgently.  “I know.  Melissa is a lot more…” she grasped for a word that adequately described her sister’s free-spirited new-ageism and wouldn’t make her seem like a lunatic, “…receptive to that kind of thing than I am.  You would probably get on with her very well, actually.”  Her turquoise eyes twinkled mischievously.  “I can set you up, if you’re interested?”

“Oh.  Uh, no thanks, Scully,” Mulder said, firmly shaking his head.  “I’m not exactly in the market for anyone at the moment.”

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Scully said, feeling a hot blush creep up her neck.  That was a lie.  She knew damn well that Fox Mulder had just gotten out of a relationship, and with his former partner no less.  Agent Crowley, or Foley, or something.  She couldn’t remember the woman’s name.  You couldn’t be the Bureau’s golden boy without everyone knowing everything about your personal business, especially after you kamikazied a promising career as an expert profiler by burying yourself in unsolved cases with a paranormal bent in the basement after you started ranting about little green men.  Before she’d been transferred from Quantico, however, rumor had it that the newly-single Fox Mulder had been steadily working his way through the secretarial pool after already having his fun with half the crime lab. And as attractive as this man was, Scully knew he must be the subject of nearly every straight woman at the Bureau’s fantasies, and probably some of the men’s, too.  

“I’m not seeing anyone currently,” Mulder qualified carefully.  “I’m just…” He shifted, leaning back in his seat. “I recently got out of a very messy relationship, and it ended pretty badly.  I’m not exactly itching to jump right into another one.  Although, I’m sure your sister is as wonderful as you are,” he said, theatrically batting his eyelashes.

Scully reddened slightly, and she bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I didn’t mean to pry, Mulder.”

“It’s alright,” Mulder acceded, his shoulder brushing against hers.  “If we’re going to be partners, we should probably know at least the basics about one another.”  He turned to face her directly, resting his arm along the backs of their seats.  “So, you have one sister.  Is she older or younger?”

“Older,” Scully answered, trying to decide if she should shy away or lean into the hand that he’d left resting on the hard, orange airport chair behind them.  “And I have two brothers, one older than Melissa and one younger than me.”

“Wow.  Four kids, huh?  Keeping that Irish Catholic tradition alive and well.”

She nodded and flashed him good-natured smile.  “What about you?  Was it just you and your sister, before she was kidnapped?”

“Abducted,” he corrected.  “And yes, it was just me and Samantha.”

“Okay.  And you’re single and _not_ looking to mingle.  Good to know.”

Mulder nudged her shoulder with his own, leaning down and nearly purring conspiratorially into her ear, “And is the enigmatic Dr. Scully involved in any sort of romantic relationship at the moment?”  He was close enough that she could detect the faint, woodsy smell of his aftershave and the spicy, salty combination of coffee and sunflower seeds on his breath.  She pulled back, purposefully avoiding his gaze and trying not to notice how her heart started galloping in her chest at how close he was, her cheeks flushing and a dull throbbing beginning somewhere low in her abdomen.  Mulder didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to mind.

She cleared her throat.  “Yes, actually.  His name is Ethan.  He’s a journalist.”  

“A _journalist_?” Mulder scoffed, shaking his head.

“What?” Scully questioned, miffed.  “What do you have against journalists?”  

“Nothing.  I just didn’t exactly see you with somebody who plays with words for a living.”

“And just who _did_ you see me with, Agent Mulder?”  

She may have imagined it, but for some reason her retort came out sounding coyly coquettish to her ears, rather than indignant.   _Easy, Dana_ , she warned herself.   _That sounds an awful lot like flirting._

Mulder blinked, sizing her up, and their eyes held for what seemed like an eternity.  A blush once again crept up Scully’s décolletage the longer her eyes were locked with Mulder’s, and she cursed her fair complexion for giving her uneasiness away.  

The world around them came sharply back into focus when Scully realized that the airline attendants were calling for their rows to be seated on the overhead paging system, and she very nearly had to shake herself to break eye contact with Mulder.  God, she needed to get some sleep.  The jetlag was seriously messing with her ability to maintain any semblance of professionalism.

“Nevermind,” Mulder said softly, wrenching his eyes from her face.  He stood suddenly, and without asking, he picked up her briefcase and settled it atop his rolling carry-on.  “Are you going to need a ride home once we get back to D.C.?  My car’s at the long-term parking lot.  I can give you a lift.  Maybe grab some dinner or something.”  

“Oh, uh…thank you for the offer, but Ethan is meeting me at the airport.”

Something suspiciously like disappointment washed over Mulder’s face, but it was gone in an instant.  Had she not been studying him like she was going to be taking a final exam, she doubted she would have even noticed it.  His trademark smirk was already back in place when he placed both hands on her shoulders and turned her bodily around to join the queue of passengers.  His right hand gently, almost tentatively, came to rest low on her back as they shuffled towards the jet bridge, the other hand wheeling their carry-on items behind himself.

“Great,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t wait to meet him.”

+++++

Ethan had, indeed, been waiting for her, embarrassingly with a brightly wrapped bouquet of deep red long-stemmed roses.  He had waved maniacally, a lopsided smile lighting up his face when he saw Scully materialize from the throngs of travelers. As they approached, Scully had blushed furiously, swiping her hair self-consciously behind an ear and shooting Mulder a dark glower when he’d leaned down to murmur into her ear, “And here I figured you for a Gerber daisies kind of girl.”

“DANA!!!” Ethan shouted.  “Congratulations on your first field assignment!  How was it!?” He had rushed forward and wrapped her up in a hug, twirling her around before setting her down.  

“Exhausting, to be honest,” Scully said with a weary, tolerant smile, smoothing her hair back into place.  “Ethan, let me introduce you to-” She’d turned then to gesture to Mulder, only to find that he was no longer standing next to her.  She had spun in a hasty circle on her tiptoes, scanning the crowd before finally spotting his tall, dark head bee-lining for the hissing automatic doors some fifty yards away.  Almost as if he’d sensed her eyes on him, he had looked back over his shoulder and zeroed in on her.  Chewing on his lower lip, he’d shrugged, apologizing wordlessly from across the room as a characteristic half-smile ghosted over his face before he’d turned and was gone.

Scully had pursed her lips, smiling to herself as she shook her head.  Completely unaware of the silent exchange between she and Mulder, Ethan was already tugging on her hand, rolling her bag behind him and babbling about where he wanted to go for dinner.  Scully had sighed inwardly, wanting nothing more than to sink into her bed, pull the covers over her head, and sleep for the next three days.

+++++

Much later, after what felt like an interminably long dinner of marginal sushi, Scully had gently but firmly told a very disappointed Ethan that he was _not_ going to be spending the night tonight, begging off that she was too tired and had to get up early for work in the morning.  She tried to ignore the fact that his kicked-puppy, crestfallen face hadn’t even fazed her.  All she could picture on the drive home from dinner was her comfortable, downy duvet, her softest satin pajamas, and the quiet solitude of her empty apartment.  And, for some reason she didn’t care to reflect on, Mulder’s boyish features and easy, infuriatingly omniscient grin flashed through Scully’s mind intermittently as Ethan navigated the quiet streets of Georgetown.  

After he’d pulled up in front of her building, handing Scully her luggage with a quick peck and a mournful goodbye as she’d slammed the car door shut, she dragged herself up the walkway and through her front door.  Scully pushed any perplexing thoughts about Mulder aside, instead throwing all of her focus into her bedtime routine.  A quick, scalding shower and a cup of tea later, she finally crawled between her sheets, praying that sleep would come quickly.  

An hour and a half later, despite being bone-tired, she was tossing and turning, still struggling to fall asleep.  She rolled over for what seemed like the hundredth time and sighed dejectedly, the clock on her nightstand glowing a menacing shade of red.  Her mind refused to relinquish control of the details of the Billy Miles case, and for some reason, the way the soft, buttery glow of candlelight had played off of Mulder’s profile in his darkened Bellefleur motel room as he’d told her the story of his sister’s abduction kept replaying over and over again.  The sudden shriek of her phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly pushed herself up in her bed to reach for the cordless and press the ‘on’ button.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly.

“Scully?  It’s me.” Mulder.  She glanced down at her bedside clock.  11:22.  How the hell had he gotten her home phone number?  “I haven’t been able to sleep.  I talked to the D.A.’s office in Raymon County, Oregon,” he said, and she could hear him trying to justify the lateness of the hour with the urgency in his voice.  “There’s no casefile on Billy Miles.  The paperwork we filed is gone.”  He paused, allowing the weight of that message to sink in.  Mulder didn’t sound surprised at this development, just fatigued, as though he’d expected it would happen, which infuriated her for some reason. “We need to talk, Scully.”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, turning again to her nightstand. Why on earth couldn’t this have waited until…“Tomorrow,” she said, suddenly desperate to establish boundaries with him.  First he invaded her personal space, then her thoughts, now he was stealing sleep from her as well.  Where did he get off?  She held her breath, but when he didn’t respond, simply disconnected the line without saying goodbye, she let the phone slip from her ear and hit the off button, feeling as though she’d just failed a test she didn’t even know she’d been taking. She numbly replaced the cordless phone on its base, then sank slowly back down into her bed.  

Dammit.  What did it all mean?  As far as she knew, a complaint hadn’t been filed yet, and how could the local D.A. even think about filing a case against Billy Miles now, without the reports she and Mulder had submitted?  How would this case possibly be prosecuted?  They wouldn’t be able to duplicate their work now that that strange, inhuman corpse had disappeared, and her laptop and autopsy notes had been burnt to a crisp.  All of the evidence in the case was gone.  And in any event, Billy Miles was likely going to be seeking some sort of mental competency evaluation in order to avoid prosecution, even if charges were eventually filed.  The Bureau certainly wasn’t going to authorize another round of investigation pending the results of a competency hearing.  Groaning, Scully rolled onto her back.  

Now she definitely wasn’t going to be able to sleep.  

After another half hour of dejected contemplation, Scully wrenched herself out of bed, wrapping herself up in her robe and padding soundlessly out to her living room.  Maybe another cup of tea would do the trick.  Just as she’d placed the kettle on the stovetop to boil, she jumped as a soft, insistent knock echoed through the quiet dark of her apartment.  She looked at the clock above the kitchen window to find that it was now a few minutes before midnight.  Ethan knew better than to show up unannounced at her apartment. That left one dubious possibility. But no.  He wouldn’t…would he?

Scully scurried over to the front door and peered into the peephole.  Sighing, she unlatched the door and opened it a crack.  

“Agent Mulder,” Scully murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.  “I’m not even going to ask how you know where I live.  And before you ask, no, I do not want to go for a run.”

Mulder blinked and shrugged, heaviness slumping his shoulders.  “Scully, I was able to get a hold of a copy of your undergraduate senior thesis.  Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to find out your home address?”  

Scully closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose.  

“Are you going to let me in or am I going to have break down the door?” Mulder asked petulantly.

Scully grudgingly opened the door wider and Mulder brushed past her, turning to face her after perching on the back of her couch. Self-consciously, she tucked the edges of her robes in closer around her small body, feeling woefully underdressed as she frankly appraised Mulder’s dark jeans, black shirt, and black leather jacket.  He looked dangerously handsome, like some Kerouac-wannabe.

“Mulder, what are you doing here?” she asked to break the tense silence.  “It’s close to midnight.”

Once again, Mulder shrugged.  He crossed his arms and scuffed one boot on her carpet.  “I said we needed to talk.”

Irritation flared in her chest, and she planted her hands on her narrow hips, allowing her robe to fall open.  

Mulder let his gaze slide slowly down her slim frame and back up again.  “Nice pjs, Scully.”  She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I was in _bed_ , Mulder.  Unlike you, I do actually sleep on occasion.  And I said on the phone we could talk tomorrow.  So what the hell are you doing here now?”

Ignoring her disgruntled grumbling, Mulder instead chose to look around, taking in her apartment furnishings.  He caught sight of the roses Ethan had given her, now sitting ostentatiously in a tall glass vase on her kitchen table.  Mulder looked past her into her bedroom.  “Boyfriend’s not here, is he?”

Exasperation quickly gave way to anger.  “That’s none of your business, Mulder!”

Suddenly, the tea kettle began to sing, and she stalked past him into the kitchen and flicked the stove off.  

“I’d love a cup, thanks, Scully.”  She turned to find Mulder casually leaning in the doorway, arms crossed.  

She stared at him, her eyebrows raised almost to her hairline.  “I didn’t offer,” she snapped.  “Mulder, I didn’t think I’d need to tell you this, but it is wildly inappropriate to show up at my apartment and barge in in the middle of the night.”

Mulder smirked.  “That’s funny coming from you, Scully…seeing as how _you_ barged into _my_ motel room a few nights ago and practically stripped for me under the premise that I examine your backside.”

Scully’s mouth dropped open.  Mulder lifted his eyebrows and nibbled on his bottom lip, trying and failing miserably to hide a smug grin.  She felt her cheeks burn scarlet, and she gaped at him as she struggled to find a proper rejoinder, flashing back to the moment that she’d hurried, terrified, into his Bellefleur motel room and taken a shaky breath before letting her robe slip off her shoulders to reveal her dowdy beige cotton bra and underwear.  How he’d knelt before her with a candle in one hand, allowing his fingers to ghost over the mysterious red welts marring the pale, porcelain skin of her lower back, then lifted his chin up after a few tense, silent moments, like he was worshipping at the alter of some pagan goddess.  How he’d gazed reverently up at her from a prone, supplicant position on his knees, offering penance in the form of reassurance and a cocky half-smile.  “That…that was different!” she stuttered.  

“You mean different because then we were investigating a case and staying in a Bureau-requisitioned motel room, and that certainly would have constituted consorting in the same motel room with your male partner?  Whereas we are now currently not investigating a case, this is your apartment, and _you_ invited _me_ in?” Mulder prodded, triumphant.

Scully closed her eyes and heaved a sigh, clenching her teeth.  She willed her heart to stop hammering in her chest.  Damn him.  He was right. If anyone needed to be reported to OPR, it was her.  But he was just trying to get under her skin.  She’d be damned if she was going to allow him the satisfaction of seeing that he was actually succeeding.  Best to just get this over with.  

“What is it that you wanted to talk about that couldn’t possibly wait until tomorrow, Mulder?”  

Scully’s eyes followed him as he crossed her kitchen floor and opened a cabinet, smiling to himself as he found the right cupboard on the first try.  He retrieved two mugs, looping his thumb through their handles, then started opening drawers until he found the silverware and took out two spoons.  He brought them over to her, towering over her and deliberately brushing her arm as he set them down.  Scully tried not to roll her eyes, ignoring the way her pulse quickened when he was standing so close.  She deliberately elbowed him out of the way and tossed a teabag into each mug before filling them nearly to the brim with hot water.  

Meanwhile, Mulder had retreated to the kitchen table and plunked himself down.  “I’m trying really hard not to be disappointed, Scully.  This case was the closest I’ve ever gotten to proving the existence of extraterrestrial life, that people are being abducted, possibly experimented on, and that the government may be complicit in those abductions.  That’s what I think happened to my sister.  And if Billy Miles was returned alive, then maybe that means there’s still hope for Samantha.”

Scully brought the steaming mugs over to the table and set one down gently in front of him, then lowered herself into the chair across from him, watching the cream she poured into her tea curl into a pale paisley pattern.  “Even if that were true, Mulder, there aren’t exactly any investigative avenues left for us to follow.  Billy Miles was returned, and while he’s no longer catatonic, he’s not going to be able to tell us who did this to him.  And the body I autopsied, whatever it was, is gone.  Our motel rooms were torched.  Whoever is behind this is obviously very good at disappearing evidence, and knows that you got close to something.  And now they’re covering it up.”

Mulder thoughtfully stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea. “ _We_ got close to something, Scully.  I wasn’t the only one out there this time,” he said.   He reached out and slid the tall vase of flowers that was partially blocking his view of her out of the way, looking purposefully at her across the table.

Scully’s eyes drifted shut, and she shook her head slowly before opening them and fixing him with a pointed stare.  “No, Mulder.  It wasn’t just you.”

He held her gaze for a beat, swallowed, then stared down at the steam swirling from his cup.  “That’s, uh…that’s what I really wanted to talk to you about tonight, Scully.  I wanted to know whether this was still an assignment you were willing to take, in light of our first case together.  And the fact that people are going to try to discredit and dismiss our work at every turn.”  

Scully stared, surprise evident on her features.  “Of course I do, Mulder.  As difficult and frustrating as this case was, I have to admit, I enjoyed the challenge,” she said, and her voice sounded strong and steady, belying the uncertainty she felt, even now.  But the more she considered him, sitting here in her kitchen well past midnight, his passionate, earnest face searching hers, the more certain she felt that she belonged with him somehow.  That this was right.  “I still don’t believe that those kids are being routinely abducted and experimented on by space aliens,” Scully qualified, her eyes holding his, and she allowed a playful smile to flash over her features, inviting him to disagree.  “But we do still have that metal implant, which we can have the crime lab analyze.  We still have a few eyewitness accounts.  And we have a suspect…Billy Miles.  Justice can still be served.”

Mulder nodded, silent for a long moment before he rested his elbows on the edge of her table and leaned across it, bringing his face closer to hers.  “So…I didn’t scare you off, then?”  He was trying to remain serious, and failing miserably.

“Agent Mulder,” Scully said, settling her upper body’s weight on her own arms and tilting in to meet him halfway, choosing her words carefully and being sure to hold his gaze, “it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than arson and alien autopsies to get rid of me.  Although-” she smiled and quirked an eyebrow at him.  “…I am pretty pissed about my laptop.”

This time, he couldn’t keep that same genuine, boyish grin she’d seen at the Portland airport terminal from crinkling his eyes, and a husky chuckle escaped from his lips.  Scully swallowed hard, again trying to ignore the heat that rapidly bloomed and spread low in her belly when she realized that a part of her was proud that she was the one responsible for that sound, for that smile.   _Dangerous thoughts, Dana._  

“Well,” Mulder said, glancing up at the clock on the wall, “in that case, I guess I should be going.  Oh, but Scully, one thing.  HR left me a message the other day that your range qualification is about to expire.  I know it’s a Friday tomorrow, and the last thing in the world you probably want to do is a range re-qual on a Friday evening, but I’d really like to get that taken care of. In my experience, the X-Files tends take you away at a moment’s notice, and I wouldn’t want your spotless record to get dinged for failing to re-qual in time.  Can we get that handled, maybe right after work tomorrow?”  

Scully sighed, letting her chin drop down to her chest and running a hand through her mussed hair.  Ethan had mentioned wanting to take her out to dinner and a movie tomorrow night after spending the entire last week apart.  But Mulder was probably right.  She’d been meaning to get her re-qual taken care of for weeks now.  And for some reason, another evening of mediocre Indian food and a romcom didn’t sound nearly as appealing as the opportunity to impress the man sitting across from her.

“Fine,” she demurred.  “I’ll meet you at the range at 5:30 tomorrow.  I’ve got some stuff to take care of at Quantico before then anyway.”

Mulder nodded, scooping up her now-empty mug and his own and setting them in her sink.  “I’m a pretty good shot myself, Scully.  If you’re game for it, we can make a little competition out of it. Think over some terms and bring your singles, and we’ll make a bet or two, just to make it fun.”  He toggled his eyebrows at her and smirked.  She rolled her eyes and shook her head, letting her hair fall in a dark curtain over her face to hide her bemused grin.

Before she knew it, they were murmuring their goodbyes and the front door was snicking shut gently behind him.  A small smile played over her face as she slowly made her way to her room, shucking her robe and easing herself down between the sheets.  

This time, when she closed her eyes, sleep overtook her almost immediately.

+++++

By the time Scully arrived at the firing range at Quantico the next day, it was nearly 5:30 p.m. and the building was practically deserted.  A couple of firearms instructors were milling around behind the front desk, chatting with one another, and Scully signed in quickly on the clipboard and grabbed the couple of boxes of 9mm ammo that one of them slid across the desk to her.  Pocketing the boxes, she also grabbed a pair of safety glasses and a bulky set of earmuffs that the instructor handed to her.  Scully smiled her thanks, then glanced at her watch.  Dammit, she was already five minutes late.  Mulder was probably thinking she had chickened out.  With her hands full, Scully turned quickly and ran right into none other than Tom Colton.

“Dana! Easy there!” Tom said, catching her by the arm as she fairly bounced off of his chest.  "Where are you off to in such a hurry?“

"Tom, oh my God, hi!  Good to see you.  I’m so sorry, I’d love to catch up but I’m late for a firearms re-qual.”

“Seriously?” Tom asked, grimacing.  "What kind of slave driver has you doing your re-qual after 5 on a Friday?  I thought you were still teaching here at Quantico?“ 

Scully shifted uncomfortably.  "Umm…I was just recently reassigned, actually. To…uh…the X-Files division.” Tom’s mouth dropped open, and Scully was suddenly embarrassed, and furious with herself when a flush crept up her face. There was no reason to be ashamed of her new assignment, why should she be hesitant to talk about it?  No, that wasn’t true.  She knew exactly why. Mulder had been discussed openly and often during the academy by trainees and instructors alike as a mythical, strange sort of savant.  His work in the Violent Crimes Unit was still the stuff of legend, and while Mulder the profiler was respected enough that his monograph was still used as part of the behavioral sciences curriculum, Mulder the man had been offered up to the new recruits as a cautionary tale. Don’t allow the job to completely consume you, otherwise you’ll end up like that whackjob Fox Mulder, hidden away in the basement so no one could hear his ranting about Big Foot, spaceships, and a vast government conspiracy to cover up The Truth.  The unspoken implication, of course, was that Bill Patterson had worked Mulder so hard he’d knocked a few too many of Mulder’s screws loose.

“Spooky Mulder? You’re partnered with Spooky Mulder?!” Tom squawked, and he almost doubled over as he started to laugh.  "Dana, who did you piss off to get stuck with that lunatic as your partner?“

"Tom,” Scully said, looking her friend in the eye and squaring her shoulders, suddenly protective of her partner. “Agent Mulder is actually quite brilliant.  I’ve really enjoyed working with him so far.  And the cases are interesting.” She juggled her armful of supplies and purposefully made it a point to look down at her watch again. “I’m really sorry, Tom, but I’ve got to run. Let’s catch up over lunch soon, okay?”

“Definitely.  I can’t wait to hear about all the ghosties and ghoulies you’ll be putting away,” Tom teased, turning to leave.  "I’ll call you soon.  Until then, don’t get abducted by aliens or anything, okay, Mrs. Spooky?“ His laughter echoed down the hallway as Scully narrowed her eyes and sighed, watching his retreating form disappear around the corner.  

Mulder was already replacing a bullet-ridden Q target when she walked up beside him and dumped her stuff on the table in between their shooting lanes. "I was getting worried you weren’t gonna show, Scully,” Mulder said, glancing at her over his shoulder.  

“Well if I’d known you were going to cheat by warming up ahead of time, I’d have been here sooner,” she cooed sweetly, and smiled when he chuckled softly.  Scully was finding that she loved to see Mulder genuinely smile. It softened his features, making him seem so much younger and more vulnerable than the somewhat haunted, smartass smirk he usually wore. And, if she was being honest, it also made him infinitely more handsome. 

“So, what’s on the table if I win?  Besides bragging rights?” Scully inquired, checking to make sure her clips were fully loaded, then she set her SIG down and pulled her long auburn hair back into a ponytail and adjusted the safety glasses over her eyes.  

“Dinner,” Mulder answered immediately.  "Tonight.“

Scully stared up at him, tilting her head and lifting a delicately arched eyebrow. "Agent Mulder…first of all, I’m going to pretend like that isn’t borderline inappropriate. Second of all, how do you know I don’t already have dinner plans tonight?" 

One side of Mulder’s mouth quirked up, and he refused to meet her gaze as he chambered rounds into his own clip.  He shrugged nonchalantly.  ” _Do_ you have dinner plans tonight?“

Scully exhaled audibly, and she shook her head in disbelief.  His hubris was unnerving.  She also found it mildly irritating that she was having trouble deciding whether she was offended or flattered by his invitation.

“No,” she said helplessly.  "But that’s not the point!  Mulder, we are partners.  I know I don’t need to remind you that asking your partner out on a date tends to be frowned upon by HR.“

"Not a date.  Dinner.”

Scully pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. “Semantics.”  She handed him another Q target so that he could secure it to her backboard and watched as he straightened it, stepping back next to her to make sure it was centered. 

“I just want to get to know you a little bit better, Scully,” Mulder explained patiently.  “If we’re going to be partners, if you’re as invested in this assignment as you say you are, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together and, no offense, but I’m still not quite convinced that you’re not here to spy on me.”

Scully sighed audibly.  "I am _not_ spying on you.”  She flicked a switch overhead, sending her target hurtling backwards down the track. 

“And how would I know that you’re being truthful? I barely know you,” he countered reasonably. “50 rounds, 75 seconds, 85 percent at center mass.”

“I don’t know, Mulder,” she shot back.  “Aren’t you supposed to be some sort of expert profiler or something?  Are you somehow able to determine how trustworthy I am only after you’ve watched me eat a plate of pasta?”  She chambered a round in her weapon before holstering her firearm.  “And I’ll give you 90 percent at center mass.”  

Mulder couldn’t hide his surprise, turning towards her and raising his eyebrows.  Firearms instructors had to qualify at 90 percent. Scully looked back at him gamely and positioned the ear protection smugly over her ears with a smirk, inwardly gloating that she had managed to stun him into momentary silence.  She waited for him to move behind her, then glanced over her shoulder to check that he was completely eclipsed by her and gave him a few seconds to put on his own earmuffs. She waited for him to push the signal button, giving her the go-ahead to begin and starting her time.  Even through her earmuffs, she could hear the shrill, piercing squeal of the signal, and lighting fast she had her weapon unholstered, flicking the safety off simultaneously as she leveled the tiny letter ‘Q’ on the target in her sights.  

She knew from her initial academy range qualification that 75 seconds felt like an eternity, so she used a full two seconds to close her eyes briefly, shutting the rest of the world around her out while she mentally pictured the target in front of her as she took in a slow, deep breath.  Her azure eyes opened suddenly, her pupils contracting to focus on the tiny letter 25 yards away, and on her exhale she squeezed the trigger.  With her left hand wrapped around the butt of her gun, steadying her right hand, she fired fifteen rounds in about eight seconds, counting them off in her head.  Anticipating her final shot, she strong-armed the last two rounds in her clip and was already reaching with her left hand for her next magazine as she fired with her right, then she hit the magazine release button with her right index finger, expending the old clip and a sliding the new one into place in the span of a few milliseconds at most, her thumb cocking the hammer back.  

Fully reloaded and ready to fire once more, she again took a full two to three seconds to close her eyes and inhale deeply through her nose.  As she let her breathe hiss out through her nose and mouth, she opened her eyes and aimed again at the bullet-ridden target and emptied her next clip, keeping track of how many rounds she’d expended in her head and once again strong-arming her last few shots to allow her to multitask as she reached for the next clip with her left hand while firing with her right arm fully extended.  

She expended three magazines in this manner, and with fifteen seconds and five shots to go, she had just jammed the last clip into place and was moving her thumb to draw back the hammer once more, had just closed her eyes to take her last steadying breath, when she sensed rather than saw that Mulder had moved to stand directly behind her.  With her eyes still closed, she suddenly felt him shadow her, standing so close that every nerve in her body screamed, reacting to the heat emanating from his body. Despite her ear protection, she could swear she heard him breathe in with her, and as she exhaled she felt a rush of warm air tickle the back of her neck as he released his own breath in time with hers.  

Scully must have audibly gasped at the sensation, for her sharp intake of breath echoed surprisingly loud in her own ears as her eyes snapped open. She felt goosebumps pimple all over her body and a surge of adrenaline jolted her.  An overwhelming urge to drop her weapon and turn to him to allow her body to melt into his shot through her, but instead she felt her finger squeeze the trigger and knew, undoubtedly, that her concentration in that moment had been utterly shattered.  She swore internally as that shot nearly missed the backboard entirely, but thankfully it only hit outside the outline of the target by about six inches, so she wasn’t completely embarrassed.  

For the remaining few seconds of the exercise and with the four shots she had left, she somehow managed to regain control of her body’s reaction to him, and she finished the re-qual by putting the last four rounds in the center of the target’s head.  The majority of her bullets, but for the few strong-armed shots she’d managed as she’d reached for the next clips with her free arm, which had hit the target’s shoulder and neck, had decimated the ‘Q’ in the center of the target and the surrounding area, leaving a gaping hole where its center of mass should have been.

Engaging the safety, Scully lowered her arms and holstered her gun.  Mulder hadn’t moved, remaining a hair’s breadth from her backside.  Scully furiously whipped off her earmuffs, all but throwing them onto the table in front of her, then took off her safety glasses and turned to glare up at him.  She was shocked to find less than a foot of space between them, and the air crackled with intensity even as the smell of gun powder burned her nostrils.  Mulder was staring down at her, awe and amusement fighting for dominance over his features.  

“What the hell was that?!” Scully snapped.  “Why did you sneak up on me like that?  You cheated!”

Mulder raised his hands in mock surrender and took a step backwards.  “I didn’t cheat!  I was trying to figure out how you maintained such laser-like focus, Scully.  That was impressive.”

Scully advanced on him, poking her index finger into his chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Mulder.  You cheated! You encroached on my personal space, invaded my bubble, and tried to put me off.  Well, mission accomplished, I’m at 88 percent instead of 90 percent because of you!  What the hell, Mulder!?” she fumed.

He smiled beatifically down at her, letting her rant, a genial light making his eyes dance.  “Scully, you win,” he said, laughing.  “There’s no way in hell I could score better than that, not even on my best day.”

Scully narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms huffily.

“You passed, Scully, okay?” Mulder conceded with a good-natured shrug.  “You won. I’m not even going to waste any ammo. I give.  You are the champion.”

Flicking the switch over her head once more and sending her target zipping back towards them, Scully struggled to stifle the pride that bloomed in her chest.  She looked back at Mulder over her shoulder, who was appraising her with a new sort of appreciation as he stretched past her to yank the paper target from the backboard. He delicately fingered the one lone shot that had gone awry, the one she’d nearly missed as he’d breathed down the back of her neck.  

She blushed furiously and snatched the paper target out of his hands, crumpling it into a ball.  

“So, Scully,” Mulder said gamely, watching her purse her lips as she collected her belongings and turned to follow her as she stalked out the door of the shooting range.  “You were saying something about pasta?”    

+++++

After bickering on the walk back to their cars in the nearly empty parking lot, Mulder finally convinced Scully to follow him to Alexandria, claiming that he knew of a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that would knock her socks off.  Begrudgingly, but her interest and appetite piqued, Scully had agreed and followed his dark green sedan, parking a few blocks away from the restaurant he’d promised was worth the drive in the complete opposite direction of her own Georgetown apartment.

Giorgio’s was crowded, as usual, for a Friday evening, but Scully stole surreptitious glances at Mulder as he met her at her car, eyes shyly downcast as he slowed his long stride to match her gate and opened the restaurant door for her, his right hand once again grazing her lower back as they entered the establishment.  In the low, amber lighting, Scully took in the dark wood paneling and the rich umber booths, the soft tinkle of silverware and the candlelight flickering off of crystal stemware that sat perched on crisp, white linen tablecloths.  Very nice.  And undoubtedly very expensive.  

Scully caught Mulder flashing a charming smile at the hostess when they approached, watching as he leaned down to whisper something clandestinely into her ear.  A wide grin split the young woman’s dark, pretty face as she listened, and she gazed up at him dreamily before turning to focus on Scully.  She smiled a bit wider and actually winked at Scully, then gathered two menus and was leading them back into the heart of the restaurant before Scully had time to wonder how the hell Mulder had managed make a reservation on such short notice.

Mulder skirted the table the hostess directed them to so that he could pull Scully’s chair out for her, steadfastly ignoring the way she rolled her eyes dramatically.  “Mulder, it is 1992, for heaven’s sake.  You don’t need to pull my chair out for me,” she muttered as she plunked down into her seat and pulled her scarlet napkin into her lap, taking the menu from the hostess.

“Chivalry is not dead, Scully,” he said, settling down across from her.  “Plus, after that impressive display of your marksmanship, I’m thinking I need to stay on your good side.  I wouldn’t ever want find a reason to be on the receiving end of your firearm.”

“Don’t worry, Mulder,” Scully countered, not lifting her eyes from the menu as she perused the main courses.  “If I ever do have to shoot you, I’ll do my best to make it as painless for you as possible.”  She saw Mulder hide a grin out of the corner of her eye and bit her lip to keep from smiling back.  God, but this felt like a date.   _Not a date_ , she repeated Mulder’s mantra in her head.   _Just dinner_.  She took a sip of water and tried to remember what Ethan’s face looked like, but for the life of her she found that she couldn’t even remember what color his eyes were.  Not when all six feet of her incredibly attractive new partner was studying her like he’d just discovered a new species in the burnished, coppery light of the restaurant, a smile lifting the corners of his beautiful mouth.  

“The veal scaloppini is excellent,” Mulder said unnecessarily, and then Scully did set her menu down to stare across the candle-lit table at him.  “So’s the lasagna,” he added, “just in case you’re morally opposed to eating baby cows.”

Scully sighed, not wanting to admit that she had, indeed, been eyeballing the veal scaloppini.  He really was spooky, she concluded.  For some reason, as she allowed her gaze to sweep over him rather than the entree options, she suddenly felt the need to prove something to him.  “Okay, Mulder…I trust you.” She lifted her chin and eyebrowed him defiantly.   “Order for me.”

Mulder’s warm hazel eyes leveled at her over his menu, and even though she couldn’t see his mouth, she was still able to discern that he was smiling. “That’s not very feminist of you, Scully, to let your date order dinner for you.”  

“You’re not my date, you’re my partner,” Scully fired back. “And I thought the whole point of this dinner was to establish trust.  What better way to initiate that than to _trust_ you to order for me?”

Lowering his menu, and visibly intrigued by the gauntlet she’d thrown down, Mulder shrugged, smiled, and signaled for their waiter.  

“Mr. Mulder,” the young server said deferentially as he approached, dipping into a slight bow.  “What can I get for you and your lovely companion this evening?”

Mulder’s gaze lighted over to Scully’s and held it for a beat, and without even batting an eye, he proceeded to order an antipasto of calamari bruschetta, the veal scaloppini for Scully, the swordfish arrabbiata for him, and one of the more expensive bottles of Sauvignon Blanc for them to share. Scully gave nothing away, simply handing her menu back to the young man as Mulder ordered. After he had jotted down Mulder’s selections, nodding his approval, Mulder engaged their server, whom he was obviously familiar with, in polite and intent conversation about how his graduate program at Georgetown was going and how his family was doing.  While they spoke, Scully drank in her partner’s relaxed posture, his easygoing smile, the way his eyes occasionally wandered over to search her face, as if silently confirming that she was alright, and found herself thoroughly and unabashedly smitten.  This man was nearly unrecognizable from the smug, self-important prig who had tried to bully her during their first few days together, metaphorically bumping chests in a display of mental dominance with his outlandish theories and almost hostile attitude.  The man sitting across from her was gentle, considerate, and incredibly charismatic, attentive to her in a way that nearly took her breath away.  

Soon, the server had bowed discreetly again and vanished, leaving them to study one another across the table.  Clearing her throat, Scully broke the tenuous silence.  

“Okay, Mulder.  Let’s do this.  You have the opportunity to ask me anything you want to know about me, and I promise to be completely candid.  Fire away.”

Mulder seemed to contemplate her, his eyes narrowing slightly as they drifted over her face.  After a full ten seconds of silent deliberation, he nodded to himself, seeming to have reached a conclusion of sorts.  He cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine.  “Okay, Scully.  Beatles or Stones?”

A deep furrow appeared between her eyebrows.  “What?”

“Beatles, or Stones?” Mulder asked again, patiently, enunciating each word carefully.

She gaped at him.  “Are…are you serious?” she asked, incredulity lighting over her features.

“Absolutely,” Mulder nodded vigorously.  “Your answer will tell me a lot about you, Scully.”  

She sighed, taking a long draught of her wine before setting her glass down. “Are we talking Beatles circa 1962 or 1969?”

“Just answer the question, Scully.”

“Well, Mulder if you want my honest opinion I’d take ‘Norwegian Wood’ over ‘Paint It, Black’ any day, but if you’re talking albums in their entirety then I’d rather listen to _Exile on Main Street_ than the _White Album_.  Does that answer your question?”

 Mulder shook his head, looking delighted.  “No, not really.  You took what should have been a one-word answer and turned it into a three-part qualified paragraph.  But that’s okay.  Your turn.”

She stared.  “My turn for what?”

“Your turn to ask me anything.  Anything you want to know about me.  If this is the only opportunity we have to do this, let’s do it right.  It’s only fair you get a crack at me.”

Scully twisted her napkin in her lap, pondering the implications of such an exchange.  “Why only this once, Mulder?  Why is this the only time I have to ask you personal questions I might want to know the answers to?”

“Well, okay, it’s not the ONLY time.  But it’s the first time.  Ask me anything.  I promise I’ll be completely honest with you.”

She pursed her lips.  “What’s your favorite color?” she blurted, then cursed herself for not thinking through her first question.  She shouldn’t be wasting such a valuable opportunity to learn more about the mythical agent she’d heard so much about.  

“Blue,” he answered immediately, his gaze burning into hers.  “My turn. Where’s Ethan tonight?”

Scully nearly choked on her bite of calamari.  “Excuse me?”

“Where is your boyfriend tonight?  If you were my girlfriend and I’d just spent a week away from you, I would make damn sure you were at home with me and not out with your incredibly brilliant and attractive, albeit somewhat insane, new partner.”

Scully shook her head slightly, dumbstruck for a moment.  When she finally regained her ability to speak, she spoke slowly, lowering her register so that Mulder had to lean forward to hear her above the clatter of silverware and the murmur of conversations at neighboring tables. “Ethan doesn’t have me on a leash, Mulder, and I do occasionally venture out without him.  And with all due respect, you seem to hold a pretty high opinion of yourself. What makes you think you’re even remotely my type?”

“I’m not,” Mulder replied evenly.  “But you’re intrigued by me.  I challenge you in a way that you didn’t expect.  And you’re not used to the possibility that when you’re with me, you might not be the smartest person in the room.”

Scully swallowed.  “You’re certainly a challenge, I’ll give you that.”

“So…why _are_ you here, with me, instead of there, with him?”

Scully took another sip of wine, trying to buy herself some time to respond. Truth be told, spending time with Ethan had been the furthest thing from her mind this evening.  She’d made excuses when he’d called, telling him she was still too tired and jetlagged to do much of anything, that she wouldn’t be good company anyway. She had found that she was actually looking forward to seeing Mulder at the end of the day.  He seemed to know so much about her already, and had done an awful lot of digging into her background.  He had studied her, and found that she warranted further investigation.  As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was flattered by his attentiveness.  And she found she was itching to get to the bottom of the man in front of her.   _In more ways than one_ , an evil little part of her brain tittered before she banished the thought.  

Once again, Mulder was right, damn him.  He remained an enigma to her, a mystery.  And the scientist in her wanted to observe him, to gather more evidence and formulate a hypothesis, test and retest her theories about him.  

“Maybe he’s not the person I wanted to spend my evening getting to know a little bit better,” Scully found herself saying, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop them.  She looked across the table at him through lowered lashed and lifted her chin defiantly as she took another sip of her wine.  

Mulder met her gaze, held it, then shook his head slightly. “About that, Scully…I don’t want you to assume anything about why I asked you to dinner tonight,” he said, earnest. “My intentions are honorable, I can assure you.  But speaking from, uh,” he winced almost imperceptibly, “personal experience, an assignment in the X-Files division isn’t exactly conducive to maintaining any sort of meaningful romantic relationship.  I’m not saying that to scare you off, I just want you to know upfront what you’ve agreed to, especially if you’re involved with someone. I’m rarely home more than two days in a row any given week.  I can barely keep my fish alive, let alone keep a woman at home satisfied.”

“Oh, I’m sure you know how to satisfy a woman, Mulder,” Scully said, biting her lower lip.  Mulder’s eyes widened and flickered down to her mouth and back up again.   _Damn that generous first pour_ , she thought helplessly, wondering what the hell had gotten into her.

Thankfully, their meals arrived within seconds, and the tension instantly abated.

As she lifted the first bite of her scallopini to her mouth, Scully couldn’t help the breathy moan of satisfaction that escaped.  The spicy tomato-based broth the veal had been simmering in was laden with notes of fresh thyme and rosemary, and she had to admit after she took another sip of her wine that he had, indeed, done very well when ordering for her.  Mulder forked another bite of his swordfish into his mouth, using a piece of rustic, country white bread to mop up the arrabbiata sauce from his plate as he regarded her thoughtfully.

After another few moments of easy silence, Mulder washed down another bite of his meal, draining his wine and reaching for the opened bottle on the table to refill first her glass, then his.  “Well, Scully,” he droned amicably.  “How did I do?”

“I think the fact that I haven’t said anything for almost five full minutes speaks for itself,” she conceded, swallowing.    

He smiled triumphantly, and the rest of the meal passed in quiet, sociable conversation about mutual acquaintances and high-profile cases Mulder had been tangentially involved in.  

Eventually, Mulder signaled the waiter and paid for their meal without even glancing at the total on the receipt, simply tucking his credit card into the black leather billfold the server had handed to him. Before Scully knew it, she was being ushered out of the restaurant, a blast of cold, spring air greeting her as they made their way back to her car.  

Mulder stopped her as they approached her parking spot, a hand catching and squeezing her arm gently before it disappeared back into his pocket.  “You’ve had too much to drink to be driving home, Scully,” he murmured.  “It’s a gorgeous evening, and we’re only a few blocks away from my place.  Just walk back with me and I’ll call you a cab?”  

He was gazing down into her upturned face when another gust of wind sent a chill through her body and whipped her long hair around her face. Despite her suit jacket, she shivered, pulling her arms around herself.

“You’re freezing,” he noted, pulling his arms out of his long, black trenchcoat. “Here.” He settled it over her shoulders before she could protest, and she unconsciously snuggled down into the warmth of it.  

“Okay,” she found herself conceding, staring up at him. Her head _was_ swimming a bit after the wine and the richness of the meal and the headiness of being surrounded by the smell of him.  He reached out and gingerly tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, searching her eyes for something she didn’t think either of them would be able to articulate.  She let her eyes drift down, clearing her throat softly.  She felt his hand anchor itself to what she now, inexplicably, considered to be his spot on the small of her back, and they turned and started walking in the direction of his apartment while he chattered on, filling a silence that could have been uncomfortable with details about possible cases he’d been considering investigating.  He peppered her with questions, prodding her for her opinion on possible explanations for this or that aspect of a case, seeming to genuinely consider and weigh her arguments before pouncing right back with another round of what-ifs.  

Scully almost didn’t notice when his thumb hesitantly swept gentle circles over her hipbone as they walked.

+++++

If she had to swear an oath, press her left hand firmly to the well-worn leather cover of a Bible and raise her right hand solemnly in the air, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help her God, she wouldn’t have been able to say for certain who moved first.  The only thing she could remember with any clarity was that one moment they were walking side-by-side up the walkway of his apartment building and the next he had her pinned to the brick wall just outside the front door.  She was up on her tiptoes, her small hands wrapped securely around his neck, fingers twined in his minky, dark hair to keep his face angled just so, as his tongue and hers slid over one another.  He pressed himself into her and she eagerly reciprocated, shifting to grind against the incredibly hard length of him.  

Eventually, someone exited the building, and they swiftly broke apart as an elderly man cast a somewhat disgusted and pointed stare in their direction and traipsed down the stairs.  Mulder still had her bracketed between his arms, and he reached back and caught the door just before it was about to slam shut with one hand.  His face half-shadowed, he stared down at her, a questioning look on his face.  Apparently he found the answer he needed in hers because he nodded once and grabbed her hand, hauling her with him into the foyer where an empty elevator sat vacant, waiting expectantly for them.  He pulled her into the elevator and jammed the button for the fourth floor before turning back and lowering his mouth slowly back down to hers.

Scully tilted her head to the side at the last moment, smiling when his lips missed hers and instead trailed down her jawline as she braced against the back of the elevator and arched into him, her fingers clawing at his shirt when he discovered a sensitive spot she didn’t even know she had behind her left ear.  Gasping, she turned back into his kiss, nibbling softly on his lower lip before soothing it with her tongue.  The elevator dinged and the doors opened, and then instead of kissing him she was kissing the air that smelled and tasted like him as he pulled away and yanked her into the hallway, practically dragging her down the hall to his room.  

In front of apartment 42, Mulder spun around and pushed her up against the hard wooden door, fumbling in the front pockets of his trench that she was still wearing in a halfhearted attempt to find his keys as his tongue plunged into her mouth.  His hands managed to get wonderfully sidetracked as they inventoried the front pockets, toying with the side zipper of her skirt and dancing up and down her ribcage through the silky lining of his coat to skim dangerously close to the undersides of her breasts.  Her breath hitched when his thumbs swiped over her hip bones, and she reflexively tilted her pelvis into his when his right hand suddenly found what it was looking for. He blindly retrieved the keys from the left front pocket of his coat, and without breaking their kiss, managed to find the right key and jam it into the lock before returning his full attention to a thorough exploration of her body.

Scully reached behind her to turn the handle, smiling against his lips when he gasped as the door opened, sending them tumbling into the darkness of his apartment.  She felt him bend his knees and then his large, warm hands were sliding from her hips around to grip the backs of her thighs, and suddenly she was airborne. He lifted her and she locked her ankles around his slim waist, still kissing him.  He walked her backwards into his apartment, and in a testament to how well they were already able to work together, she was able to reach out with one arm to slam his door closed while he worked on pushing her skirt up around her waist.

They made the most of several long strides across his living room; she managed to shuck off his coat she was still wearing, along with her suit jacket and his tie.  Her nimble fingers were working on unbuttoning his starched white dress shirt when he plunked her down on top of his desk next to his computer and nearly knocked his phone to the floor in the process.  She slid towards him, abandoning his shirt buttons for his belt buckle.  It hit the floor with a satisfying thunk.  

Mulder cupped her gently outside of her underwear, and she whimpered, widening her legs to give him better access.  “Jesus Christ, Scully,” he moaned, his fingers playing along the lace border of her underwear.  He had to be able to feel how wet she was through the thin material, and the salty-sweet smell of her arousal thickened the air around them.  “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck as she pulled his shirttails out of his pants and made quick work of the last few buttons.  “You need to tell me now if you want me to stop.”  In response, she grabbed his right hand, which had wandered back up to her waist while the other tangled in her hair, and brought it back down to her center.  Smiling, he started to work past the stretchy, lacey material, pulling it roughly to the side.  

She lifted herself and tilted up, digging her heels into the backs of his thighs to give herself leverage and give him more room to maneuver his hand when she felt something clunky and hard under her ass.  “OW!” she yelped, and a mechanical voice penetrated the darkness. “You have one new voice message,” it droned.

“Ah, shit, sorry,” she muttered, jerking herself off of the offending device.  His damn answering machine.  Mulder chuckled softly.  Taking advantage of their mutual distraction, he slid one long finger inside of her and she gasped as his thumb began to stroke her clit in careless, meandering circles. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips and teeth working their way down the sleek column of her throat. “It’s probably just my mo-”

“Fox, it’s me.”

Mulder froze as the silky smooth alto floated out of the recording device, his hand suddenly stilled inside of her.  He pulled away from her neck and in the dim orange glow that filtered through his blinds from the outside streetlamps, Scully saw his eyes lose focus.

“I’m sorry we keep missing each other, but at this point I’m beginning to think that’s intentional, at least on your part.”  The faceless woman sighed deeply.  It hissed out in a long-suffering, heavy kind of way, and when she continued, Scully detected in her gentle, teasing tone an indulgent sort of forbearance.  “I tried calling the guys the other day to make sure you were alright, but Melvin’s exact words were, and I quote, ‘You don’t get to care about him anymore, you worthless harpy.’”  

At that, Mulder almost laughed, but the sound was strangled.  Scully grimaced as his finger slipped out of her and he pulled away. “John told me you have a new partner now.”  His eyes lighted over to hers, his gaze blank and distant in the cool blue glow of a fish tank that burbled next to them on his bookshelf.  Scully slid down from his desk, yanking her underwear back into place. “Be careful, Fox.  Blevins never did have your best interests at heart.  I know you probably think I never did either.” Scully stared at Mulder as the mystery woman sighed again, resignation evident in her voice.  “I won’t try to call you again.  Goodbye, Fox.”  

Mulder visibly deflated once the call was terminated, backing away from her, one slow step at a time.  When he looked into her eyes again she saw that they had hardened into a steely gray.  His jaw was clenched, and he sank down onto the leather sofa a few feet away and leaned forward on his elbows, covering his face with his hands.

Scully’s crossed her arms tight over her chest.  “And that was?…”

“Absolutely none of your business,” he mumbled from behind his fingers.

Nodding curtly, she turned to gather her coat and toed her pumps back on. “Yeah. I figured that’s what you’d say.”

She was furious with herself, knew that her cheeks were flaming.  She bent awkwardly to gather her purse from where it had been discarded during their frantic melee.  She was silently thankful that he still hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights.  At least he couldn’t see how embarrassed she was. The reality of what she had almost just done hit her like a shock of ice water.  Jesus Christ, what had she been thinking?  Had she learned nothing from her disastrous relationship with Jack Willis just a few years ago? What about Ethan?  What in God’s name had gotten into her?  How would they have continued to work together if this had actually happened tonight? What must he think of her, that she would so readily jump into bed with him after knowing him only a little over a week?  How was she going to face him come Monday morning?  She should put in for a transfer, tell Blevins this had been a gross miscalculation, that she couldn’t possibly work with such an arrogant, self-centered jerk-

“I can hear you thinking.”  Mulder’s voice startled her, floating quietly through the darkness.   _Damn him_.

Scully closed her eyes, drew in a steadying breath. She turned back to him to find him watching her, still sitting on his couch, but his hands were now clasped out in front of him.  

“This was a mistake,” she whispered.  She hated that her voice wavered.

He chewed on his bottom lip, nodding.  “‘This’ meaning tonight, or ‘this’ meaning your assignment?”

When she didn’t answer, he nodded again, slumping down lower into the corner of the couch.  

“Were you sent to me to seduce me?” he asked, but he sounded tired, his accusation half-hearted.  “To work your way into my office and my work and my life and bring me down from the inside?  Are you a Trojan horse, Scully?”

She arched an eyebrow, exhaled, swallowed hard.  “I know you don’t really believe that, Mulder. Even if I were, I’m obviously doing a piss-poor job of it.  Because you’re over there, and I’m over here, and this-” she gestured between them with one hand, “obviously isn’t going to happen.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She sniffed, needing to get out of his apartment _now_. She’d call for a cab when she wasn’t being stifled by the intense weight of his scrutiny.  Scully turned her back on him again, crossing his living room quickly, the loud clack of her heels making her silence that much more deafening.

“Dana.”  His voice stopped her just as her fingers brushed the door handle.

She stiffened, her hand clenching.  “It’s Scully,” she hissed.

“Scully…I’m sorry.”  That _he_ was apologizing to _her_ made her want to throw something, or maybe scream.  She bit her tongue instead.  “This won’t happen again,” he promised.  “I respect you too much.  You’re not at all what I was expecting.  You’re _more_ than I was expecting.  And you have too much to contribute to my work for me to trivialize that by getting involved with you.”

She nodded, still refusing to face him.  “Is that what you think getting involved with me would mean?”

“I can’t have both, Scully.  My recent track record has proven that.  And if it came down to a choice between the X-Files or having anything that resembled a normal life with someone, I would choose to go it alone, keep trying to uncover the truth.  I was completely candid with you the other night: Nothing else matters to me.”

Her tongue involuntarily snaked out to lick her lip as she nodded again.  She hated that she could still taste him.  She turned, finally, waiting until he lifted his eyes to hers so he knew that she was deadly seriously.  “You’re right, Mulder,” she said softly, as she donned her jacket.  She took her time, snaking one arm through and then the other, threading the buttons through their holes one at a time.  “This will never happen again.”  Straightening her skirt, she jutted her chin out, willing herself not to cry.  She lifted both hands up to smooth her hair, mentally making an appointment with her hair stylist to cut it, and soon.  The feel of his fingers tangling in it was still too raw, too immediate.  She needed to be rid of it.  Maybe a change in color, too…something lighter, closer to her natural color.

She had already turned, opened the door, was halfway into the hallway when his final apology emanated from the inky blackness of his apartment.  “I’m sorry, Scully,” he said.  “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”  

“Well, Mulder,” she replied evenly, looking at him over her shoulder, some part of her eager to hold on to the playful camaraderie that had come so easily to them, to let him know that she was still willing to be his friend, if nothing else, “If the world ever ends, and we’re the last people on the planet, maybe I’ll give you another shot.”

Without waiting for his response, she straightened her jacket, crossed the threshold and closed the door firmly behind her.


End file.
